Yesterday I addressed a parcel to Sunset Blvd, Hollywood, and it suddenly made Flinders Street, Melbourne -- and my presence there -- seem a bit obscure. Because, three years ago, I was sitting on the floor in my sharehouse -- in Brisbane, no less -- drinking cans of pre-mixed whiskey and trying to paint a frustrated love letter and avoiding study and just so, so scared that nothing was going to work out, ever.

There would be no job, no love, no freedom, no travel, no safety, no money, no art.

But that's precisely not how it worked out. And it's just so weird that when you try to imagine your future, you have absolutely no way of even coming close.

The future is being good so far, and I hope yours is too -- enjoy the weekend x